Praise Allah and Pass the Ammo! Magik Markers Set Album Release Date and Tracklisting

Chemical Ali will go down in history as one of the most brutal pieces of shit in history. But because he is in the news, and because we are news reporters of some sort, it would be unprofessional not to mention these four little-known facts about the man:

1. Chemical Ali actually got his nickname when he was the only person to not lose his cookies while on peyote with The Doors in the desert. Coincidently, he was the inspiration for the “Mr. Mojo Risin’” nickname after Jim Morrison awoke during the night to see the wild Iraqi dry-humping a cactus.2. He was seen cheering the Hell’s Angels’ murder of Meredith Hunter at the free Stones concert at Altamont Motor Speedway, CA near the end of 1969 and freaked out the notoriously tough gang when he was overheard offering to get rid of the evidence by eating the poor victim’s body for a gram of hash.3. “Shimmy A” once had creative musical hopes and dreams like we all do. For instance, he used to envision recording with Phil Spector, using the producer’s patented wall-of-sound technique to record a hi-energy house workout album. He got the idea after taking E while raping and pillaging his way across Europe during his gap year (clarification: this wish to hook up with Spector may have more to do with his orgiastic urge of getting guns pointed at his head).4. Chemical Ali has always been an evil bastard consumed with plans of killing off the Kurd and Shi'ite peoples in Iraq but he has been responsible for other hate crimes as well. He has been responsible for the mass decline of Latin curricula in schools over the last 30 years, and he also helped kill off skiffle and be-bop. In a rare interview published by Tiger Beat, Ali claimed his hatred for the sickening TV show 7th Heaven. “You’re next 7th Heaven!”, he shouted. The next year, it was canceled.

The fact that he may be hanged before Magik Markers release their new album BOSS on September 25 through Ecstatic Peace may finally have him uncharacteristically rattled. Not even Ali could deny the greatness of this band, could he? Well, he might be the only one actually... dude hates everything and has a fucking tin ear to boot.

The sound of one hand hitting another is called clapping. The sound of two hands hitting out at anything in their way is called Pete Nolan. The sound of choreographed step-kicking is called Stomp the Yard. The sound of someone shit-kicking your grey matter is called Elisa Ambrogio. The sound of children singing “Do-Re-Mi” is The Sound of Music. The sound of children blowing up bullfrogs by making them inhale cigarettes is the sound of Magik Markers.

By now we all know what All Tomorrow's Parties is. The ATP website describes itself as such: "Details to be updated soon." So, we're left with little, but you know it as both the curators of across the pond-cum-in our backyard music festiveness as well as a record label with Bardo Pond, The Drones, and Jackie-O Motherfucker — among others — on its roster.

But, lest I forget, this is not an ATP story.

I nearly shit my pants the other day when I learned of a brand new Jackie-O Motherfucker release. They're a droney, folky psychedelicacy. As they're prone to releasing on multiple independent labels, like ATP, Ecstatic Peace, and now Uzo Audio, JOMF releases tend to go unnoticed among the uninitiated. I'm personally nominating all of you for initiation.

Freaker Pipe, JOMF's new album, limited to just 1000 copies, contains some of their newest live recordings and features Jessica Rylan of Can't (among other things) and members of My Cat Is An Alien and Moglass for a freak-out collab.

Freaker Pipe may be purchased here. Or here. Or here. Or, if you're a lucky fucker, at your local independent record retailer.

Willowz: [adopting the accent and tone of Paulie ‘Walnuts’ Gualtieri, from The Sopranos] Heyyyy Grant, how are ya sport! Nice eyelineah, Nancy boiiii! Say, you reviewed our new CD yet?

Grant: What? I--... no.

Willowz: Curious. We sent yas the CD eight montts ago!

Grant: I know, I know. Actually, I’m kind of relieved to see you because I’ve been meaning to tell you that I dig Chataqua a lot, seriously.

Willowz: Tanks. I wish it didn’t require a ‘seriously,’ but tanks.

Grant: I’m just sayin’ you know, in case you thought I was dodgin’ ya. [laughs nervously]

Willowz: Oh, and what would give us that idea? [punches Grant straight in the gravy basket, cracks him on the face with a roundhouse left, then gives our beleaguered reporter a toe-punch to the stomach] Fackin’ deadbeat.

Willowz: Yeah, ye’re gonna recommend it tah yah friends AN relatives [another kick, more gentle this time, which I appreciate], am I making myself cleah? Othahwise I scoop out ya eyes like a coupla pitted olives I’d find in a nice antipaste... you know, ‘cause I like ta eat. You’ve seen my show.

Grant: Yes, you could even say I’ve borrowed ideas from the show quite a bit. And yes sir, I’ll get right on that. I won’t come up short next time... in fact, how about this; next time I review a Willowz CD, I’ll add two points.

NOTE: Included are three letters written to those most likely to be emotionally, spiritually, and seriously, honestly, sincerely, affected by news of The Cure’s fall tour and pending album release.

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1

Dear Billie Joe Armstrong,

Grab a figurative tissue for those raccoon eyes. You’re about to go Wake Me Up When September Ends* on us.

Your trailblazing predecessors, i.e., those who wore smudgy black eyeliner before you, i.e. The Cure, are set to start touring this September.

The thing is, after giving your rabble-rousing, life-changing, rock-and-fucking-rolling American Idiot album an oh-so-righteous spin, it seems you’ve already got plans hiding under the sheets all September, being drenched in your pain (again?) and becoming who you are. Oh, man!

Please accept these from me to you for the long, hard, soul-emptying month o’ depression. I’m sincerely sorry you’re missing The Cure’s first month of touring! Maybe you’ll buy the album they’re releasing? Maybe we’ll go see them in October, when you wake up?

Lunch date, soon, okay?

* Re: a whiny, shrill, Buffy the Vampire Slayer-watching, diary-keeping, Ben & Jerry-binging, "it’s that time of the month" brand of bitchy. No, seriously, though. You taught us, Billie! WAR IS SENSELESS! Now that you’ve earned a “Renegade of the Year” title from Rolling Stone given the wild success of your CONCEPT ALBUM!, trumpeting such incendiary Jesus of Suburbia musings, I GET THAT WAR IS SENSELESS, not to trust my government, and to subsequently question whether you are in fact the Christ to Bono’s God the Father. Amen, peace be with you. Seriously.

XOXO,

TMT

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2

Dear Tyra Banks,

The Cure looks better in eye makeup.

Okay, I’m kidding. You don’t look a little rough next to the girls on America’s Next Top Model, not at all. Not even when you wear weird headbands. Never. Especially not then.

Look, a cheeseburger!

Kidding. Honestly. You totally have three or so hot points on Kirstie Alley.

Go see The Cure. In spirit of eyeliner! Makeup tips for da’ models? For you?

XOXO,

TMT

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3

Dear Everyone,

Anything signed XOXO, TMT can be assumed to mean AJ Pacitti and in no way reflects Mr P’s stance on the world at large, Tyra Banks, or Kirstie Alley.

THE REAL DEAL: The Cure’s album, still no word on its name, is set for release sometime this fall.

As for the tour, tickets went on sale yesterday (Thursday), and are now available. 65 Days of Static are slotted as the opening gig for The Cure (including Robert Smith, Simon Gallup, Jason Cooper, and Porl Thompson).

Sure, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood NOW, but don’t get too used to all of those good vibes and happy tunes, kids. Because even as we speak, the top handpuppet himself is packing his bags, hugging Lady Elaine goodbye, and taking the last red-eye trolley the fuck out of that whimsical, little fantasy land.

That’s right, boys and girls. King Frida... er, uh... I mean, Tim Kinsella himself has recently announced that he is not long for the world of Make Believe.

Kinsella, fastidious frontman/screwball singer of longtime love-‘em-or-hate-‘em anti-band Joan of Arc, has been handling singing duties in the slightly more straightforward (“straightforward” of course for the Kinsella Clan being a relative term) noisy math-rock project Make Believe since 2003. The supergroup of sorts contained members of the same seemingly revolving-door music club that produced great fan-polarizers like Cap’n Jazz, Owls, Joan of Arc, etc. and had just completed the writing for their whopping third full-length record in as many years when T-Kin dropped the bomb via the, shall-we-say “minimalist” Joan of Arc website that he’d be resigning his duties after the new record is finished.

“The new record is written and it sounds great to me; I have been very excited about the songs and have put a lot of work into getting my contributions for them together,” Kinsella posted last week. “But I know once the record is recorded I would be miserable if I had to go on tour and continue the rock band lifestyle which I have felt less and less connection to for a long while now.” Well, if nothing else, it’s good to see that, like any neighborhood of Make Believe resident worth his button-nose, Kinsella is in bigtime touch with his feelings.

The frazzled frontman continued: “I really like my wife a lot. And puttering about the house making weird stuff all day means everything to me. And I feel a strong sense of community at home that means a lot to me, and though I know I have been very lucky to have had the opportunities to travel, I really enjoy leaving Chicago less and less all the time.

“Being a sort of bizzaro David Lee Roth or whatever is kind of fun and fulfilling in some sort of way, but not something I have in me to prioritize enough to commit the time to that the band would require of me. And I don't want to let my friends down and hold them back from doing what they want to be doing. By leaving the group now, while the songs for the new record are still in pliable forms, they can finish the record without me and then be able to tour in support of it and continue onward in whatever new form they come up with.”

Wait. Soooo... is he saying that he doesn’t want to be “just a gigolo” anymore? Either way, for those concerned about Diamond Dave Jr.’s place in his day-job band Joan of Arc, have no fear. You haven’t heard the last of them.

“I have a pile of new songs to pull from for a new Joan of Arc record and am looking forward to having time to develop them in the fall, but I am also looking forward to taking my time and going into hermit-mode for awhile.”

Well, Tim, what can we say? The neighborhood will never be quite so beautiful without your brightly-colored tunics. Maybe we’ll see you around down by the Museum-Go-Round sometime? Oh, and best of luck “puttering about the house making weird stuff” and all of that. God bless that wife of yours. She must be a real saint...

In May 2007, Stars released Do You Trust Your Friends?, an album of guest remixes by a number of the band’s favorite musicians. Some critics loved it, some critics hated it. We didn’t review it, but I still thought it was pretty good. So, in that ‘do you trust your friends’ spirit, I present the following text written by my friend Meg:

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. So, if you are a preteen ogling over the boy who tripped you at the planetarium on last week’s fieldtrip, all you get out of this is a few dead daisies and an inconclusive probability. If you are the Canadian Arts & Crafts band Stars, however, you’ve got the basis for every superstructure song-to-be that’s ever graced one of your album’s track lists. The exciting part is, this perpetually lovelorn foursome are getting ready to release a whole new bouquet for our enjoyment coming up on September 25th of this year. So what’s to expect? The album, entitled In Our Bedroom After the War, invites the conclusion that this release (note track titles) will continue to spin narratives worthy of Updike-esque romantic proportions; rife with hesitation and excitement, thrill and lust, and, of course, awkward entrapment with ex-lovers in tiny enclosed spaces. For a band that has consistently captured the charts and minds of the indie music scene, its release is nothing less than highly anticipated. My prediction? Get ready to sigh, stare off in memory’s dramatic rapture, and unbury the ex’s old t-shirt to wear as pajamas along with the rest of the alternative listening community as we immerse ourselves in what will prove to be another beautiful entanglement of precious melodics and lyrical he-said she-said excellence. Until then? Uncover the recently remixed versions of Stars’ songs on their highly unlocatable project Do You Trust Your Friends? And as for my predictions? Well…you can ask yourself the same question.